Absence of Faith

by Anthony S. Policastro

  They walked towards a chocolate brown house with tan trim. Chantress pushed the lighted doorbell button. The door opened. A large barrel-chested man stood in the widening doorway.

  "Methos, good to see you. This must be the one you spoke of. Glad to meet you. Come in, come in," the man said. "I’m making tea; would you like some?"

  "None for me," Kyle said looking at Chantress with questionable eyes.

  "No thanks."

  The trio walked through a narrow hallway into a living room with red oak floors and a large ornate Persian rug in the center of the room.

  "So you would like to join us?" the man said, adjusting his gold wire-rim glasses to get a better look at Kyle.

  "Maybe, I'm just curious," Kyle said.

  "Have you ever been to a Black Mass before?"

  "No."

  "Well, there is really nothing to fear. It's just like a mass you've attended in your church," the man said. "I take it you were Roman Catholic?"

  "I've never been to a church," Kyle said.

  A small smile formed on the Magus' face. The whistle from the tea pot revved up.

  "Excuse me while I attend to that," he said and left.

  "What's with that name he called you?"

  "All of our identities are secret. We are known only by the ancient names we choose," she said.

  "Why?"

  "Because we are a secret group," she whispered. "Now stop asking questions. I'll tell you more on the way home."

  "He's pretty nerdy to be a maggot," Kyle said.

  "Ha, ha, ha," Chantress laughed. "Not a maggot, silly. A Magus."

  "What's the difference? He seems to fit both descriptions," Kyle said with a smirk.

  The Magus returned with a cup of tea on a wooden serving tray. Kyle thought it was strange that he used a tray to bring out a single cup of tea. The Magus looked at Kyle while taking several small sips from the white cup.

  "Let me explain a little about the Black Mass. It’s really a mass in opposition to the Church's. We do everything to mock the Catholic Church."

  "What do I have to do at this Black Mass?" Kyle asked.

  "Nothing at all. Just watch, learn, breathe in the experience," the Magus said. "Do you think this is something for you?"

  "I guess."

  The Magus motioned Chantress to follow him into the kitchen.

  "What?" Chantress asked.

  "There is something about this boy, something special. I've seen it in his eyes. His eyes burn with desire, with discontent, with a hunger, a power. I've never seen this in a person before, but I know what it is. It is a rare quality, a quality only a few men have had in the history of all mankind. Yes, indeed, bring him tonight. I will prepare something special for him," the Magus explained.

  Chantress returned to Kyle and the two left.

  "What was that all about?" Kyle asked in the car.

  "He wanted to meet you and see if you fit in," Chantress said.

  "I don't think so. He wanted to see if I was a cop or someone who would make trouble for the group like a nosy neighbor. That's what this was all about. Isn't it?"

  "What do you expect? Many people are scared to death of Satanists, and there's more who would like to see us all go away. Yes, he has to be suspicious of everyone that comes into the coven," Chantress explained.

  "Who is that guy, anyway?"

  "No one knows," Chantress replied. "What did you sense from him?"

  "Nothing, yet. I wasn't with him long enough," Kyle said.

  "How long does it take?"

  "I don’t know? Sometimes, it happens right away, sometimes it doesn't."

  * * *

  Kyle arrived at Chantress' house at eleven that evening for the Black Mass. When she opened the door, she was wearing a long, black flowing robe.

  "You're wearing that?" Kyle asked as they walked down the narrow sidewalk to the street.

  "Yeah, it's what we wear," she said. "You'll get yours at the meeting."

  "I hope so," he said rubbing his hand on her smooth back.

  "Nothing underneath. Cool," he said.

  Chantress smiled and kissed him lightly on the cheek. When they arrived at the Magus' house, an older woman with long black hair and wearing a robe similar to Chantress' greeted them at the door. She led them through a hallway and then into a doorway to the basement of the house. There were no lights - only lit candles. The narrow steps led to a large open room with stonewalls and oil lamps recessed into the walls every eight to ten feet. The air was filled with an oily odor. Several people - men and women of various ages sat on metal folding chairs around a large white circle painted on the cement floor. The circle had a large six-pointed star in the middle. Forward of the circle was a long, tall table draped in a shiny, purple cloth. The table was covered with red and black candles, except in the middle there was a small clearing. A large, inverted cross hung on wall behind the table. The Magus stood on a small wooden platform in front of the altar. Chantress and Kyle took seats around the pentagram.

  "Welcome, Methos," the Magus said.

  "Welcome, Methos," the crowd repeated.

  "Methos brings us a friend, a savior, which we will call Hermes. He will have great power, great vision, and bring us what we want," the Magus said.

  "We welcome our new savior, Hermes," the crowd chanted.

  The woman who led Chantress and Kyle into the basement unfolded a red robe and walked over to Kyle. Kyle looked at Chantress, and she nodded. He stood up and the woman placed the robe around him, tying the cloth belt around his waist.

  "Welcome, Hermes, my savior. Welcome to the Daimon Seclorum," the woman told Kyle in a raspy whisper.

  She placed her hand on his shoulder and pressed. Kyle sat down. A man sitting next to Chantress rose and left. He returned moments later with two barking German Shepherds. The Magus took two plates off the altar and placed them on the floor. The dogs ate the meat readily. Minutes passed. Beads of sweat formed at Kyle's forehead and dripped down his face. Chantress noticed and squeezed his hand. The dogs became glassy-eyed and fell asleep. Another man tied the hind legs of the animals together and hung the dogs from a wood beam in the ceiling. A woman placed two large plastic buckets under the dogs. The Magus approached the dogs, and then raised his hands.

  "Oh, Beelzebub, Azazel, Abaddon, Asmodeus, Astaroth, Belial and Leviathan...our princes of darkness, accept these creatures into your domain and grant us the power we seek," the Magus said.

  "Grant us our power," the crowd echoed back.

  The Magus took out a large hunting knife from his robe and slit the dogs' throats. The blood gushed out like an open fire hydrant spilling into the buckets below. Chantress squeezed Kyle's hand. Several muted sighs escaped from the small audience. Two women rose, lifted the bloodied buckets, and poured the blood into large, gold chalices. One woman handed the chalices to the Magus. He lifted the first cup and drank from it, then the other. He handed them back to the women. They did the same, and passed the chalices around. Everyone drank. When it came to Chantress, she lifted the chalice and only let the blood touch her closed lips. She handed Kyle the chalice. He put it up to his lips and readily drank the blood. Chantress pulled her hand away. The warm blood excited him as it ran down his throat like liquid fire.

  "Oh great Satan, welcome Hermes into our house. Show him the way of darkness, show him the power of your majestic domain," the Magus said.

  The Magus recited several long passages in what Kyle thought sounded like Latin. The group remained silent and still during the monologue. Several minutes passed.

  "This concludes our mass. For those who would like to stay, we are having tea upstairs."

  The people rose and filed up the stairs. Chantress grabbed Kyle's hand and rushed up the stairway.

  "Aren't we staying for tea?" Kyle asked. "I'd like to get to know some of these people."

  "No, we are not," she said.

  When they arrived at Chantress' house, she rushed into the bathroom and washed her face vigorou
sly.

  "They've taken it too far. I'm quitting! I think after tonight, I'll get a lot of them to follow me. Wasn't that the most disgusting thing you ever witnessed...killing those poor dogs, and drinking their blood! Ugh!" she screamed. "I almost puked when he did it. Next, they will be eating the entrails and the heart! I knew this was going to happen. This all started when there was talk that some of the members wanted to compete with a cult in New York City. I'm not putting up with this anymore!"

  "I thought you said the others wouldn't quit because of the bond with the Magus," Kyle recalled.

  "I can quit. It's only a few of the members who have the bond. I'm sure I can get others to join me now. We can do it together," she said.

  Kyle stared absently down at the rug.

  "Okay. Sure. You and me head of whatever," Kyle said.

  "You think so, Kyle? You would really help me?"

  "Yeah, let's start tomorrow. I can't wait!" he said with a wild-eyed look. "This is perfect. It's just what I've been looking for. We're going to be great together!"

  Chantress saw the wild darkness in his eyes. For a second, she was frightened, but in her excitement, she ignored her inner voice and hugged Kyle.

  "This is wonderful! I'm glad we met," she said and kissed him.

  "I'm glad we met, too," he said.

  "Did you sense anything from the Magus tonight? Did you have one of your trances or whatever you call it?"

  "Yeah, I did."

  "What?"

  "All evil," he said smiling.

  The Dead Trash - Chapter 11

  The clear, rising sun cut through the gray dawn with its sharp, angled beams of orange light. The air smelled fresh and wet and the grass glistened with dew as Carson walked towards his car in the doctor’s section of the parking lot. He opened the locked door as if it were a major effort and flopped into the seat. He sat there stone still and dozed off for a few minutes. He opened his eyes with a jolt remembering where he was and that he had drive home. As he rubbed the sleepiness from his eyes he saw a man opening a large, white garbage disposal unit near the side of the hospital. The man, dressed in a white smock, looked around as if he wanted to make sure no one was watching. He approached a car nearby and slowly opened the trunk. Then he pulled out a large black garbage bag. The man struggled to lift the bag high enough to get it into the dumpster. He went back to the car and pulled out another garbage bag. He struggled again with this bag going through the same awkward movements. He closed the trunk, looked around again, and drove away very slowly with his lights off.

  Probably a lab technician cleaning up after the last shift, Carson thought. But what could be that heavy from the lab? Besides, lab technicians were usually young. This lab technician was middle-aged and appeared to be a doctor, and he drove a black Chevy. Doctors usually don't own Chevys, Carson thought, but their wives might. Carson dragged himself out of the car and walked to the dumpster. He opened the lid and was hit with a blast of a putrid, rotting odor. He backed away holding his nose. Stenciled on the side of the dumpster were the words, "Medical Waste." He went back for a second look, and spotted a chromed padlock with its shaft cut. The dumpster was nearly filled and alive with hundreds of flies. He went back to his car, opened the trunk and grabbed a screwdriver and a flashlight. He also put on a pair of surgical gloves he kept in the glove compartment. He punctured a hole in the black bag holding his breath so as not to smell the evil black odor. As he ripped the plastic open he saw a head - the head of a dog. He jumped back. His stomach rumbled and suddenly there was a pressure in his throat. He bent over and vomited. When his stomach had settled down a bit, he went back to the dumpster and directed his flashlight on the black bag. The dog’s fur was soaked in blood and its eyes had been gouged out. A long cut was made under its neck. Carson found a second dog in the other bag. He hurried back to his car and called Stokes.

  "Hello, Dr. Stokes. I'm sorry to wake you..."

  "Nonsense. Mary and I are up at this hour every morning. Shouldn't you be sleeping by now?"

  "Does the hospital use dogs in any of its testing or research?"

  "Not that I know of. There is absolutely no reason. Why do you ask?"

  "I saw an orderly or somebody put two dogs in the medical waste dumpster this morning when I left," Carson said.

  "Are you sure? The dumpsters are locked."

  "The lock was cut. I found the lock."

  "Okay. I'll look into it right away," Stokes said. "Get home and get some sleep."

  "It just seemed out of the ordinary."

  "Did you get a look at him?" Stokes asked.

  "No, but he had a hard time lifting the dogs into the dumpster. I got the impression he was a doctor, not an orderly," Carson said. "He drove a black Chevy."

  "Why do you say that?"

  "He was older than most orderlies and he struggled with the dogs."

  Very peculiar. Anything else?"

  "Yeah, there was a pentagram branded into the dogs’ heads. It was right between the eyes."

  The Party - Chapter 12

  Carson's workweek ended at 6 p.m. on Saturday. As he drove home, he wondered if Dr. Hansen had anything to do with him getting off early - it was the first Saturday night he didn't work in twelve weeks. When Carson arrived home, Linda was lying on their bed in the upstairs bedroom.

  "What's the matter?" Carson asked.

  "I must be coming down with something. I got this awful headache and I feel a bit dizzy," she replied.

  "Carson placed his hand on her forehead and then around her neck.

  "You don't have a fever. Do you want to stay home tonight?"

  "No. This is important to you. I'll go. Just give me a few more minutes to rest."

  "Sure."

  Several minutes later, Linda put on her makeup, brushed her hair and the couple left for Dr. Hansen's house.

  * * *

  "Make a right, here. That's Marina Drive," Linda said, trying to decipher her husband's handwriting on a tiny piece of paper she held in front of her.

  The street was long and winding with the homes set back away from the road. High bushes and rows of trees hid some of the homes. The Atlantic Ocean washed up behind the homes. Carson pulled into Hansen's driveway - a cobble-stoned right of way lined on each side with mature cherry trees. The driveway was circular, winding past a large front porch with four white pillars. A hazy sun cast a diffused light on the multi-gabled, turn-of-the-century home giving it a warm, friendly glow.

  "Nice house," Carson said.

  "I love it," Linda added. "This is what we need for our family."

  "Your wish is my command," Carson replied. "In about ten years."

  "Some wish," Linda said.

  Carson rang the doorbell, and a woman dressed in a black caterer's outfit with a white apron opened the door, and directed them to the back of the house. They walked through the house, and then through a sunroom that opened to a just-cut green lawn, which gently sloped downward to a sandy beach and the ocean. A light, comfortable breeze ruffled the sides of a large white tent, which housed several buffet tables covered with heated trays of delicacies. Clusters of people sat on white wicker lawn chairs and talked and ate from decorated plates. Some held paper napkins, which matched the floral designs on the plates.

  "Carson!" Dr. Hansen piped up from a group of people nearby.

  "Hello," Carson replied.

  "This must be, Linda. My pleasure," Dr. Hansen said extending his hand.

  "Nice to meet you," she replied.

  "Carson, let me introduce you."

  Dr. Hansen introduced Carson and Linda to several investors. They were mostly middle-aged, gray-haired established doctors from the hospital. When they were finished, Carson and Linda found two empty wicker chairs among a group of doctors close to their age.

  "Hi, I'm Carson Hyll and this is my wife, Linda," Carson said to a couple next to them.

  "Glad to meet you. I'm Gary Burnick and this is my fiancée, Julie Watson," Gary said.

&nb
sp; "Nice to meet you," Carson replied. "What hospital are you with?"

  "Bayside. Pediatrics," Gary said.

  "I'm an investigative reporter with The Sentinel," Julie chimed in.

  "Must be interesting," Linda added.

  "Sometimes, not much happens around here though," she explained. "I'm still looking for my big break - you know the story of the century, but I doubt it will ever happen here. I'd like to see a 747 crash on the turnpike and be one of the first reporters there."